


all we do

by KelseyO



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, sorry folks, there is no happiness to be found here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4803095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploration and fallout of 2x30 from Danny's, Carmilla's, and Laura's perspectives. Title from the song by Oh Wonder. Beta'd by uselessravenclaw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all we do

_**all we do is play it safe** _

It’s really hard to feel brave or intimidating when your arm is actively holding a few of your ribs in place, and even harder when someone half your size steps in to act as your human shield, but she’s not about to leave Laura alone with Carmilla. Not when Laura is visibly trembling from head to toe, and not when Carmilla is _seething_ , when it looks like she’s about to grow actual literal vampire fangs and tear them both limb from limb.

Not for one microsecond.

Her insides scream when Carmilla’s fingers go around Laura’s neck, but she doesn’t react; can’t risk Carmilla putting more focus into blocking Danny’s attack than not crushing Laura’s windpipe. She counts her blessings—like, all one and a half of them—when Carmilla lets go on her own, but Carmilla’s words are bursting with anger and grief and white-hot flame and seem to be just as bruising as physical force.

“The next one of you who comes near me, I swear to God I _will_ kill.”

There’s no sarcasm, no irony, no nonchalance to her threat, no pleasure or nostalgia for past bloodbaths; just the absolute, savage sincerity that can only come from the mouth of a three-hundred-year-old being who’s just lost something irreplaceable.

Someone.

Maybe she shouldn’t have done it. Maybe she should’ve let Mattie kill her, should’ve known that Carmilla telling Laura how to kill Mattie didn’t mean she was actually ready to lose her.

Then she starts to wonder what Laura would’ve preferred, whether she’d choose Danny’s death and Carmilla’s love over Mattie’s death and Carmilla’s hatred, and she nearly vomits at the thought.

She shakes her head to clear it, grimaces at the throbbing underneath her skin, and realizes that Laura hasn’t moved an inch since Carmilla stormed out.

“Laura,” she breathes, barely even getting any sound out, but her voice still manages to crack.

Laura doesn’t say anything; she’s staring at Mattie’s body.

Danny stumbles over to the couch and grabs one of the sheets perpetually draped over the arm, then does her best to one-handedly cover Mattie while ignoring the protests of her broken bones.

“Laura, come on,” Danny says gently, trying to guide her to the computer so at the very least she’ll have her back to the rest of the room, and after some careful coaxing, she gets Laura into the chair.

This puts Laura at eye-level with the arm Danny still has wrapped around her stomach, and she blinks like she’s realizing something for the first time.

“You’re hurt,” she says quietly. “We should get you some ice.”

Danny shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

(The thing is, she thinks Laura’s insides might be more broken than her own.)

-

_**all we do is live inside a cage** _

The first thing she does is dig Danny’s grave.

She finds a spare patch of land at the edge of campus--away from her mother’s house, because the further she has to drag the body, the more witnesses there are likely to be, which gives her an excuse to kill more people--drops to her knees, and begins clawing at the earth with her bare hands. One fistful of dirt, then another, over and over again, ripping through the soil and roots and rock until she’s made a decent-sized hole in the ground that has her clinging to the blades of grass around her like she might fall in if she’s not careful.

She’s breathing harder than any vampire should as she stares down into the shallow pit before her. Remembering how alone she was, buried deep in that dark, indefinite hell, and thinking about how alone she still is; about the loss of her mother and her brother and her sister, of Ell and now even Laura...

Her entire body buckles at the abrupt shock, unbearable pain, of Laura’s name caught between her ears and stuck inside her throat, impaling her chest like an iron spike. The girl who convinced her that vulnerability was a strength, that it would be worth it to let herself love again, only to single-handedly dismantle every ounce of happiness and familiarity Carmilla’s ever known.

And yet, she still told her about Mattie’s locket; and then Laura told Danny, and then Danny killed her.

She’s sobbing now--or maybe she has been this whole time--but she’s not sure if there are even any tears involved. Her lungs are heaving and she’s choking on every breath she takes because she’s lost, she’s so _fucking_ lost in this world of pain and betrayal and loss and secrets shared between one utter fool to another.

A roar of anguish rips from deep inside of her and she digs into the grass below her palm, and now she thinks about gripping Laura by her neck, about how determinedly Laura’s pulse beat beneath her fingertips after Mattie had been robbed of her own.

Laura, who told Danny how to kill Mattie.

Laura, who only knew because Carmilla told her.

There’s a new kind of ferocity in her bones as she goes back to the hole, makes it wider and deeper until it’s big enough for Danny and Laura and LaFontaine and Kirsch and anyone else on this wretched campus who might die before the semester’s end, whether by her or because of her; until her fingers are caked with dark brown and bright red, but it’s not nearly enough.

(There should be more blood on her hands.)

-

_**all I did was fail today** _

The only thing that’s black and white in this world, she’s realizing, is this awful tile floor in the master bathroom.

She’s been sitting here for a while now, waiting to see if she’ll throw up again and mostly just too exhausted, too empty, too numb to force herself back upright. She didn’t get around to turning on the lights on her way in, but it’s just as well because everything is cold and hard and dark and a little damp, and that makes it very easy to think like a vampire--about trust and loyalty and what it must feel like to be close to someone for centuries only to have them taken from you in a matter of seconds.

It’s hard to blame Carmilla for the hellish fury in her voice or in the strength of her grip on Laura’s neck, but even harder to understand how she managed to leave the house without killing her or Danny or literally anyone in her path. And, speaking of bloodshed…

She’s never watched somebody die before.

Their fight against the Dean had its casualties, but everything happened too quickly for her to process much, and a fall into a bottomless pit isn’t exactly the most graphic way to go; but she saw Danny rip the locket from Mattie’s neck, saw her pitch it to the floor and stomp on it like a cockroach, saw Mattie collapse into Carmilla’s horrified arms, saw her body go absolutely still.

The ever-tightening ball of anxiety in her stomach stirs and she lurches toward the toilet, but a few dry-heaves are all she has left in her and she leans back against the wall.

She’s also never seen Carmilla like that; so… _inhuman_ , with nothing but fire and brimstone behind her words and no trace of compassion or gentleness in the muscles that held Laura in place. In the last several months she’d grown used to Carmilla’s moments of softness and vulnerability, to Carmilla going out of her way, against everything she knows, to protect Laura and everyone she cares about, but now…

Now she’s out for blood, and very clearly done with any moral code she’s ever begrudgingly agreed upon.

Laura’s trembling from head to toe as she waits for the next wave of nausea, because Mattie’s gone and Carmilla is never coming back.

(She thinks she may have killed them both.)

 

 


End file.
